Her Smile
by Machlassie
Summary: Although known to be a stoic queen whose smile is rarely seen, there had been a point in Ismaire's life in which she felt joyful and alive. This seed of happiness first began to bloom when she first laid her eyes on a mercenary named Caellach.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

It was an average, peaceful day in the desert town of Din and as usual, the bright sun shined down upon the commoners mercilessly. Ismaire, the beautiful and becoming princess, strolled down the bustling streets studying the town's little shops as well as creating some idle chitchat with the few villagers who happened to recognize her under her hood. Everything seemed to be going smoothly as should be to Ismaire's relief, and now with lunchtime just around the corner, she was ready to return to her home at Jehanna Hall to pass the news to her father.

As she walked towards the inn to go receive a camel to ride back home on, she suddenly heard a commotion break out behind her. Ismaire turned around to try and see what had happened, but only managed to spot a growing crowd of curious onlookers along with a few women trying to drag their children away from the scene.

Although her father would scold her for not returning home on time, Ismaire felt it to be her duty as princess to try and keep the peace in her nation, so headed towards the flood of people. Used to having people make way for her, Ismaire found it difficult to shove her way up to the front. However, thanks to her slim and slender body, she was able to maneuver her way through the people and find herself facing the action. As soon as she saw what the commotion was, her eyes widened and she took a few steps back in shock.

What she saw was a bloodied up man being dragged on his knees by Jehannan soldiers, some of which Ismaire recognized. "What's going on here," she asked an unfamiliar soldier.

The soldier, who didn't even realize who he was speaking with, casually responded, "We just barely captured a man who was seen working with Ignatio."

"Ignatio?" Ismaire had repeated inaudibly. His name was well-known around Jehanna for he was the infamous assassin who had been murdering high officials as a way of demonstrating his form of so-called justice. Her father had made it a number one priority to catch the man for fear that the assassin would target him next.

Ismaire turned her attention back to the bloody man and wondered if he really was allied with Ignatio. Truly a man that worked with Ignatio wouldn't get caught by such low ranking officers would he? She wished she could see his face, but the man hung his head over his chest, exhausted from blood loss no doubt. The soldier who recently spoke to her saw her eyes set on the blood dripping off of his body then began to explain proudly, "Yeah, he was a stubborn one. Took all of our archers to take him down. But even with six arrows plugged into him, he was still fighting."

"Ha," the man blurted out sleepily, causing Ismaire and a few guards to jump, "Six arrows? Not even. You cowards used up to twenty arrows trying to kill me and even then you had to resort to using poison." He looked up at Ismaire through his reddish-brown bangs then began to study her lovely face she kept hidden underneath her hood.

Ismaire met his gaze as he was staring at her then for some odd reason couldn't turn away. He looked so young, probably not much older than her. What was a young man like himself doing getting into such a situation?

The moment he realized that her shiny eyes were set on him, he gave her a devilish smirk then said, "Hey beautiful, mind helping me out of this?"

Ismaire, who had never in her entire life, been addressed like that before, had no idea how to react. She was only used to the titles of "Milady" or "Miss". Even those who didn't even know that she was a princess called her by those names. It was, after all, only common courtesy.

As the young princess continued to wonder how she should react to such comments, the guard that stood at the young man's side had already decided how he should respond. He kicked him hard in the ribs so that he would crumple over, then yelled fiercely, "Speak when you're spoken to, you cur!"

The redheaded princess let out a gasp as the soldier began to stomp on him without mercy. "Frances, what are you doing," she asked worriedly.

The soldier paid no mind to her, but eventually slowed down and stopped attacking the already defenseless man. The man, although lying face first in the dirt, let out a little laugh then responded haughtily, "Don't interrupt someone when they're in the middle of a conversation." He gazed back up at Ismaire then gave her another one of his grins. "Isn't that right, beautiful?"

As she continued to stare at him, she began to feel her face redden and for the first time in a very long time, she felt her lips begin to curve upwards into a smile. No one had time to notice however because Frances was now beginning to unsheathe his sword. He pointed the blade at his neck and whispered, "Enough talking or I will have your head."

Surprisingly, the man had nothing to say to this threat. Ismaire observed his body and saw that it had gone limp. However, his chest still heaved up and down with each breath he took. His body had probably reached its limit and was forced into a state of unconsciousness due to the lack of blood. Frances seemed to notice this then hollered out to his troop, "Where is the carriage I requested?"

"It's coming around sir," the soldier beside Ismaire replied.

Just as expected, a carriage with Jehanna's royal emblem engraved onto it began approaching the crowd. The people made way for the coach as it was drawing near General Frances and the unconscious man. The driver stopped then motioned towards the cart the camels were towing. "We're ready to head for Jehanna Hall, sir."

Frances gave him a nod in return then ordered his subordinates to carry the man into the carriage. They tossed him in as told and with the commotion all cleared up, the mob of people began to disperse. With everything ready to go, Frances began heading to the coach, but was intercepted by a hooded Ismaire.

"Ah, Lady Ismaire. How fare you?"

She didn't immediately respond since she didn't exactly know how Frances would react. However, when she heard the impatient driver holler out to Frances, clearly oblivious to whom he was speaking with, Ismaire quietly asked, "Frances, what do you plan on doing with him once you reach the castle?"

He looked her in the eyes then after a few seconds, he placed his strong calloused hands on her shoulders and shook his head disapprovingly. "Tsk, tsk, tsk…My dear princess, you're not actually worried about what we're going to do to this man are you?" Ismaire heard the arrogance in his voice then turned her head away in disgust while his lips curved into a cocky grin. "Well if you must know…We're going to interrogate him on Ignatio's whereabouts and whether he answers or not…he'll be executed the following day. You're alright with that, aren't you, Princess?" She backed away from him while he began to walk off. However, not without first telling with her, "Remember your position and realize that what you're thinking is unfit for a person who will one day take the throne."

Unable to express her anger towards this so-called "loyal" subject of hers, Ismaire headed towards the inn to return home on her own. So aggravated by the words of her own general, she took the long way home in order to avoid looking at the carriage in which he was riding in. However, in her anger, she had let the fact that she had missed out on lunch slip her mind entirely. Once she arrives home though, someone will be there to remind her of her mistake.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

As Ismaire neared the castle gates, she began to see the figure of her father standing at the entrance, waiting for her. The moment he caught sight of her camel approaching from a few feet away, he narrowed his eyes at her, causing her to gulp. Without a doubt, he was angry with her for missing out on her curfew.

Meekly, the redheaded princess dismounted the humped animal and slowly made her way to her father, knowing what was to happen next. She stopped when there was just a few feet of space in between them then pushed her hood off of her head, letting her lovely hair cascade down her back. After that, she turned her eyes to the dirt at her feet and prepared herself for whatever punishment her father was going to deliver.

The king stared holes into his daughter while she refused to make any eye contact with him. He seemed to know that gazing at her made her uncomfortable since he kept at it for the next few seconds. Had it not been for the occasional warm wind that blew the sand around them, Ismaire would have thought that time had frozen.

As time passed, the king began to take note that Ismaire had begun to pale in color. That's when he decided to break the silence between them. He grunted in disgust then whispered angrily, "Since you clearly can't even keep a simple curfew, how in the world do you expect to keep up with appointments when you take the throne? You're unfit to be my daughter…"

Ismaire winced as the words hit her like a slap. Even though he had been treating her like this since her mother passed away, she still never managed to steel herself against these emotional punishments he gave. All she really managed to do was hold back the tears. That way, at least, she wouldn't appear to be such a weak girl.

After staring her up and down one last time, the king told her one last thing. "Now get out of my sight, you eyesore." Then to Ismaire's relief, the shadow that hung over her began to walk off, leaving her alone. Bit by bit she made her way to the camel she left a few feet away and grabbed the reins. She had planned on returning it by tomorrow, but with her father angered by her actions, she knew he wasn't going to let her leave Jehanna Hall for the next few days.

While tying the camel up in the stable, she began to remember the young man who was currently on the execution list. She thought of his wounds and predicted that due to their severity, they would take a good week to heal. Then after questioning him, which would probably take three days, Ismaire figured that the poor man only had about ten days left to live.

She caught sight of her image reflected by the water in the trough then uncharacteristically began to study it. Her face, which was always lightly powdered, was framed by her beautiful red hair which she got from her mother. Her lips, that were usually painted in red in order to complement her hair, were thin while her eyes were sharp like a bird of prey's. Although everyone would admit that her looks were anything but average, no one had ever called her beautiful. No one except for that young man.

A team of nurses rushed to and fro through the infirmary trying to save a young man's life. He laid on a bed that had turned red from his blood, and was sleeping peacefully despite the fact that he was knocking on death's door. Two nurses removed his upper clothing while another nurse began cleaning him up. All of this was done with quick precision and each doctor knew their role.

The princess watched them through the doorway, marveling at how well they worked together. She tried to keep her eyes on the workers, but her eyes would always turn to the man. Now that his face was no longer hidden behind a mask of mud and blood, she was able to study it the same way he studied hers.

He slept with a smile planted on his lips and every once in a while he would let out a laugh or a chuckle. Perhaps he was having a good dream or was it just in his nature to be so content despite the situation he was in? No matter what reason it was though, seeing that grin of his just made Ismaire want to smile too.

A mousy nurse caught sight of the princess gazing dreamily into the room then wondered if perhaps she was feeling ill. "Lady Ismaire, is something wrong," she asked in concern.

Surprised by the sudden question, Ismaire jumped then shook her head. "N-no. I'm fine. But…If I may ask…" Slowly, Ismaire began making her way towards the unconscious man who was now all bandaged up thanks to the handiwork of the nurses, "Would it be too much of a bother if you let me talk to him?"

The nurses switched their glances from one to another, all of them wondering what had gotten into this princess of theirs. Lady Ismaire wasn't one for talking, especially when it came to strangers. However, they saw that she was serious, so nodded in approval. "Of course, Milady. But for his sake, please don't wake him up from his sleep."

"I understand," she replied back while looking down at the redhead, "I'll wait."

As Ismaire took her seat down at his bedside, the mousy nurse caught sight of her cloak that she had forgotten to remove when she came home. "Milady, would you like me to take that cloak of yours? You're inside now."

"Oh, yes, if you please," Ismaire replied nonchalantly. She slipped it off, revealing the outfit she was wearing underneath. It was an outfit most noble young women of Jehanna usually wore when they were out of the sun. The attire resembled undergarments, but was made out of silk rather than cotton. Some of them also seemed to sparkle, however, Ismaire's was a simple pink with a thin veil around the waist.

The nurse took the cloak from her then followed after the other nurses who were already down the other end of the hall. She shut the door behind her as well, making sure no one would interrupt the sleeping man as they passed by. Now with the door closed and the room devoid of any other life besides the princess and the mercenary, Ismaire began to feel a little bit uneasy. She had planned on asking him just a few questions, not get locked in the room with him. However, now was not the time to go leaving because Ismaire saw that the man was beginning to awaken.

The moment he opened his eyes, the mercenary swore he was in heaven. What he saw hovering over him was a woman with beauty beyond compare. However, he couldn't shake this feeling that he had seen her somewhere before. "Huh…," he whispered to himself, "Do I know you from somewhere…?"

"Well, yes…You should," was all Ismaire could reply.

"Really?" The man got himself into a sitting position then eyed her up and down, examining her revealing outfit. He went back up to her face then studied it as he had done back in Din. Eventually, after many seconds of staring and making Ismaire feel a little uncomfortable, the man suddenly felt a spark as his brain recalled where he had seen her. "Ah…You're the little missy from the town." He leaned back down onto the bed and continued speaking. "Man, you're even more beautiful without that hood over your head, y'know that?"

This man was so nonchalant, so carefree…How could he just lie there with that grin on his face without any idea as to where he was or who he was with? Ismaire turned away and blushed as he continued to gaze at her. What was she thinking when she had asked to talk to him? She bit her lip trying to think of what to say, but was interrupted when she suddenly felt a pinch on her thigh.

She quickly rose from her seat while he laughed from her reaction. "Ha ha! Squeamish and beautiful. You're not like any other gal I've met."

Trying to regain her composure, Ismaire, in her most commanding voice, yelled back, "Stop that! What do you think you're doing? Don't you know what kind of danger you're in?"

He blinked in reply to her question, definitely not concerned in the least. He gave her a smile then whispered, "I'm in an infirmary with the presence of a lovely lady. And I'm currently talking to that lovely lady. What else is there for me to worry about?"

Rather than try to explain to him what was going to happen in the next few days, seeing that it wouldn't get through his thick skull anyways, Ismaire decided to ask a simpler question. She sank back into her seat then said quietly, "Who are you…?"

He sat up then looked her straight in the eyes. He placed her chin in between his forefinger and thumb then in a low voice said, "I'm Caellach, a mercenary for hire."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Caellach…?" Ismaire repeated his name again as he slowly began backing off from her and throwing himself back onto his bed. No matter how much he smiled, Ismaire could see that his injuries were still wearing him down.

"Yeah," he replied, "That's my name. Now what's yours?"

The princess let out a little gasp then began fiddling with her veil down by her waist. "You can call me Ismaire…"

Caellach raised an eyebrow in amusement. "You mean like the princess?"

Wondering what he would think of her once he learned she was the princess, Ismaire uneasily began turning her eyes away from his. "Yes…I'm Princess Ismaire." Expecting to hear an insult or a scoff of some sort, Ismaire instead heard a yawn. Quickly she turned back to the mercenary to find him comfortably tucking his arms beneath his head as he prepared to go back to his slumber.

"So you're the princess…," he seemed to mutter to himself sleepily. "Funny, I honestly expected you to be something else."

"Like what," Ismaire had to ask.

He flipped over to his left side to get a better look at her then replied, "Well I expected you to be one of those snooty types. Oh! And I thought you'd be a little large around the waist. Y'know since the rich seem to like to stuff their faces and whatnot." He watched as the redhead blushed which brought a smile to his face. As he opened his mouth again to add in another sentence, he began coughing uncontrollably.

Quickly, Ismaire sprung to her feet and placed her hand down upon his bandaged chest, gently pushing his body to the bed. Although she knew she wasn't doing much to help in the predicament, his coughing began to slow down and he was once again on the verge of falling asleep. "I'm sorry, "the princess apologized, "I shouldn't have kept you up…"

"Don't worry about it…," he replied while shutting his eyes. "After all, you just wanted to tell me how much days I had left to live, aren't I right?" Ignoring the shocked expression on her face, Caellach continued to speak in a casual manner. "You don't have to tell me. I already know that I only have about a week left."

Feeling foolish for trying to tell him something he had already known, the princess turned her attention back to the floor while trying to think of something else to say. Caellach snatched her hands while she pondered on, then gave her the best smile she had ever seen. "Hey, don't give me that look. I'm going to be fine, you can count on it."

"Do you promise," Ismaire asked uneasily while slowly squeezing his hand.

"I always keep my promises, Beautiful."

Two days had passed since Ismaire and Caellach's first meeting, and since then none of them had been able to speak to each other. Caellach, being the convicted, couldn't go wandering the castle grounds, and Ismaire was too occupied with all the errands her father made her run. Sometimes Ismaire had to wonder if her father knew of their meeting and was purposely keeping her away from him…She wouldn't be surprised if he was doing such a thing.

After tending to some of the Pegasus in the stable, Ismaire decided to take a stroll through the castle garden. Since Jehanna was a desert nation, spotting a flower was quite a rarity, but thanks to the gardener who tended to the plants every morning, the garden bloomed as if by magic. Ismaire gently made her way past all the green bushes to reach the center where there sat a miniature park with a fountain and a few benches circling it. She sat down and let the dry, hot wind blow her lovely hair while she rested her eyes. If her father were to catch her dozing off like this, she would definitely receive another scolding. Fortunately for her though, her father rarely came here. In fact, she would be quite surprised if he knew a place like this resided in the garden to begin with.

Everything seemed silent except for the chirping she would hear every once in a while, and Ismaire was sure she'd fall asleep. That was until she heard a loud rustle coming from the bushes behind her. Quickly she got herself up onto her feet while a man crashed through the wall of leaves and stumbled into the back of the bench Ismaire had just recently been sitting on. "C-Caellach! What in the world are you doing out here?" Ismaire blurted out as soon as she recognized who him.

He looked up from the bench he was leaning on to spot the princess in her lovely, although somewhat revealing, attire and grinned. "Morning, Beautiful. It's been a while since I've seen you."

Rather than greet him, the princess instead told him, "You shouldn't be here! What if the guards catch you?"

Like his casual, carefree self, Caellach plopped himself down onto the bench and let out a yawn. "Relax. They're the ones that let me take a walk to begin with. Now come here." He was patting the seat on his left which Ismaire couldn't help but to take. If it were anyone else, she knew she would think twice about it, but for some odd reason, Caellach just always seemed to reel her in.

While they sat together in the shade of the bushes, Ismaire looked him up and down, realizing that he had gotten himself a new set of clothes. They were not nearly as high of quality as any soldier's, but compared to his old ragged ones, he was dressed like a prince. Perhaps like the prince she had always dreamed of someday marrying.

"So," Caellach said, waking her from her little daydream, "I'm guessing this is your little spot to relax?"

Ismaire looked around at the garden surrounding them and began recalling memories she had when she was a little child. "It's more of a place to reminisce than to relax…" She muttered.

"Is that so?"

"My mother used to always take me here when she was done with all of her duties. We used to watch the birds and we would pick flowers together…This was the only place where I could remember seeing her smile." Ismaire's eyes turned to the floor as she began to recollect those memories of her mother. "But now…She's gone."

"Gone?" Caellach repeated, leaning in towards her.

"Yes…Her carriage fell over a cliff when she was returning home after visiting the country. Even though I was naught but a child back then, I still remember her voice when she spoke her kind words to me. I remember her warmth when she embraced me, and I remember the kindness she delivered to all the people of Jehanna. But…despite how warm and tender she was, she never once smiled…"

A chuckle escaped Caellach's throat as he recalled her last statement. Ismaire looked up at him wondering if she had done something wrong, but got caught up staring right into those eyes of his. He raised her chin up gingerly then whispered, "Sort of reminds me of you."

"Lady Ismaire!" A young man called out worriedly as he spotted the position the two redheads were in.

Ismaire looked ahead and found a young soldier standing near the fountain, sweat glistening from his forehead. Calmly, she asked, "Carlyle, what brings you here?"

Rather than answer, Carlyle brusquely grabbed her arm and pulled her behind him, away from the mercenary. "How dare you try to take advantage of the princess! Who do you think you are?"

Caellach rose to his feet then approached the soldier who seemed intimidated by the man's bulkier build. He looked him up and down then gave him a cocky smirk. "It's not polite to ask someone their name without first introducing themselves. It's especially impolite when the man demanding answers is on a lower level, don't you think, green?"

"Green…?" Carlyle repeated almost inaudibly. "I'll have you know that I have been a loyal member of the Jehannan army for over three years now! I won't let a…dog like you mock me!"

"Whatever you say," Caellach shrugged. He stuck his hands into his pockets then began walking off back towards the castle. Ismaire who yearned to continue talking to him, stepped forward but stopped as he spoke, "Sorry Princess, but I gotta' get going. I have some interrogation to get to. Nice talking to you though. Hope we get to do it again sometime."

His words turned her cheeks into a lovely cute pink while turning Carlyle's face red at the same time. Carlyle turned to face his superior then whispered, "I hope he didn't bother you much, Milady."

She shook her head and began walking off. "No, not at all," she said in almost an annoyed tone. She disappeared behind a brush, leaving a confused Carlyle standing at the fountain. She wasn't one to demonstrate so much emotion. Perhaps she was ill. She was a little flushed when he saw her. Carlyle thought it was best to discuss this with her father rather than end up pressing the wrong buttons and angering her even more.

Three days later, when Ismaire awoke from her sleep, she found a letter lying in front of her door. Still in her nightgown, she walked over and slowly peeled open the envelope. Her eyes skimmed the first few words that caught her attention then froze. "This can't be…," the princess whispered. The letter drifted to the floor as it escaped the girl's pale fingers…


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey Guys! It's been a while since I've written. (A year about.) I'm real sorry about that. I've been caught up with school and I lost my notebook with all my writings in it. (I stashed them in my locker at the beginning of the year and haven't grabbed them out until like a week ago…) But I just have so many ideas on this story that I just had to continue! **

Chapter 4

Without a thought of any of the consequences that could take place, Ismaire, barefoot and still dressed in her nightgown, ran down the halls of her home in search of her father. She ran past gossiping maids and chuckling guards, but she didn't even seem to notice them in her haste.

After taking a series of turns down the halls she came upon the heavy twin doors embroidered with gold and carved out of the most beautiful and expensive wood. Behind these doors would be her father. Carelessly, Ismaire crashed through the entrance and stumbled into the king's room. Fortunately for her, he was wide awake, but due to her intrusion, his rage had already begun building. What in the world could she be thinking, making an appearance like that?

As he rose to his full height, prepared to unleash his fury, Ismaire, panting and exhausted after her little run through the castle, threw herself at her father's feet and unexpectedly began pleading. "Father! Please! You mustn't do this!"

The king looked down upon his daughter with a confused look on his face. He pondered for a few seconds or more until at last he remembered. Wish a sneer look on his face, he gingerly lifted her face with two of his fingers and said sarcastically, "My poor Ismaire…Are you worried about that mercenary?"

Backing up from him, Ismaire felt like a scolded puppy, powerless and scared of her master. What was she thinking? Her father couldn't be persuaded into changing his mind, especially if it was her who was trying to sway him.

Turning his false, devilish smirk into his classic frown, King Janus watched his daughter in disgust as she sat on his floor, that pathetic look upon her face. "Look at you," he started, "You've become smitten with a common street urchin…"

Stunned, Ismaire's eyes widened and all could muster was a tiny mutter. "H-How did you…"

"How did I know," Janus repeated in an arrogant manner, "Everyone's been saying you've been acting ill and sick ever since this man arrived. I have witnesses that have seen you two together in the nursing room and garden. And now you come into my room, begging me to save the man from the fate of the gallows." He narrowed his eyes as he glared at her. "How foolish do you think I am Ismaire?"

Unable to bear the pressure of being before her father, Ismaire whispered sadly, "What has he done to wrong you to give you the right to do this...? You have no reason do you? You just want to take everything from me, but why, I don't understand…"

Caellach lay sleepily in his bed, unconcerned of his fate that waited in the near future. His wounds had been healed, thanks to the help of countless maids, and after all his interrogations, the guards could find no proof that he was conspiring with Ignatio. All that could be left for him was to leave this place and continue his life as a mercenary-for-hire. It did disappoint him, however, knowing he would be leaving the lovely Ismaire behind, but what else could one expect when you live the life of an unchained soldier like him?

As he continued to dream of his life after, the door creaked open and in popped the head of Princess Ismaire. Judging by her quiet, creeping steps, Caellach could tell she was trying to be inconspicuous, a strange behavior considering that as one of the nobles, she shouldn't have the need to hide anything from any of her subjects. He rose up onto his elbows and gave a smile. "What brings your presence here today, Beautiful?"

Stealthily, Ismaire entered the room and gingerly shut the door behind her, careful not to make a sound. Once again, her awkward actions raised the mercenary's curiosity and he straightened up into a sitting position. "What's up Princess? It's not like you to act like this. Something wrong?"

With a stern look on her face, Ismaire sat down before the man and asked, "Caellach, I need you to answer a question."

Even with the best strict face she put on, Caellach, as the carefree self he is, still managed to behave nonchalantly. "Question, eh? What kind of question? 'Do you love me?' 'Will you marry me?' A question like those?"

Flushed with embarrassment now, it took all of Ismaire's strength to contain her strict composure. She forced herself to look into his brown eyes then responded in a more commanding tone, "Caellach, I'm being serious. You have to listen to me."

Knowing that his little friend obviously had something eating at her, Caellach reluctantly inclined. Releasing a sigh of defeat, Caellach asked bemusedly, "Fine. What is it?"

Grabbing both of his rough hands with her soft ones, Ismaire asked, "Answer me truthfully: Are you allied with Ignatio?"

Caellach stared into her eyes for a while longer then turned away. Yet as he did so, he replied back, "No, of course not."

Leaning in towards him, Ismaire gripped his hands even harder as her heart began to beat faster. "Are you being honest with me Caellach?"

"What," he scoffed, "You don't believe me now?"

Rather than give an answer, Ismaire threw herself around him, tears of joy flowing from her crimson eyes. Caellach, stunned, had no idea what had gotten into her. However, he couldn't deny her a hug if she was asking for one. Wrapping one of his arms around her tiny waist, he asked cheerfully, "What's gotten into you, Princess?"

Pulling away, Ismaire began to brush away her tears, then replied, "Don't you understand? If my father can't find you guilty of anything, then he can't hang you!"

Caellach, who had been oblivious to his death sentence, stared at her with both confusion and hostility. Ismaire saw the confusion written all over his face so felt that it was her right to inform him of what her father had recently told her. Settling down on the edge of his bed, she told him every detail of their conversation, down to the last detail. She even told him her thoughts of why he would unjustly hang him. "…because you became my friend."

All of this information was a lot to absorb, but Caellach only saw this as one of the minor inconveniences every mercenary had to go through. Besides, there was no evidence piled up against him as the court and soldiers have already learned. He was innocent.

The next morning, Caellach was brusquely forced from his bed, blindfolded, and led out to the castle gates where a crowd of onlookers stood. Caellach felt someone begin to rope together his hands, but he could care less at the moment for he heard a voice begin to speak. The voice, he presumed, of Ismaire's father for as soon as he started, the noisy crowd was automatically quieted. "Today," King Janus spoke, "we will witness the hanging of this conspirer who has been aiding in the assassinations of many of your fellow countrymen and lords! We have-"

Judging by the abrupt end, Caellach could only wonder what news of importance could disrupt the king and his speech. "Milord!" It was Carlyle's voice. "Princess Ismaire has been kidnapped!"

**Sorry if this chapter was a little boring, what with all the talking and whatnot. I promise next chapter will be more action-packed! I hope you review!**


End file.
